A Night at Versailles
by HetaOmorashi
Summary: Omorashi warning! Don't like, don't read. Historical era FrUK request.


_Warning: Omorashi and historical inaccuracies ahead!_

_I do not own Hetalia._

As much as he didn't want to admit it, the French palace was absolutely gorgeous. That was impossible to deny, and Arthur was awed by the beautiful details every time he entered a room. It was almost enough to distract him from the fact that he didn't want to be there.

Arthur didn't like France. He'd tried to learn French during his childhood, but between the odd spellings and the senseless pronunciations, he gave up by the age of fourteen and declared that anyone who spoke to him would speak in English, or not at all.

That worked well for him, except on occasions like today, where he was attending a ball in Versailles and no one seemed to know much English.

That had been the reason he'd tried to avoid attending, but due to the shaky relationship between Great Britain and France, Arthur couldn't simply ignore the direct invitation from Prince Francis himself.

Due to the language barrier between him and most of the other guests, Arthur used the excuse of always having a glass of wine or water at his lips to avoid any conversation. This worked for a while, but before long, he was beginning to feel the effects of the alcohol and he made sure to only have water after that, especially if the French prince really was going to speak with him.

The two had the two had never spoken, and never written to each other about anything more than official matters. Arthur was curious as to what he was like, but he never caught more than a glimpse of the prince, who was always surrounded by both men and women who were eager to meet with him. Arthur's mind was quickly distracted by another thought, though. He really needed to find a restroom, so he slipped out of the ballroom, looking around. There were several groups of people, but none of them even looked up at Arthur.

He chose one of the hallways at random and started walking down it, glancing into the open doorways and peeking into several of the closed-off rooms. None of them contained what he was looking for, and Arthur managed to walk further and further from the ballroom as he searched. He honestly didn't know his way back, which led to a lot of wandering, until he had to stop. The need to empty his bladder was making it difficult to walk and Arthur knew that he shouldn't move too much until he knew where he was going.

Arthur listened. He heard music and talking far off in one direction, and after taking a moment to squeeze his crotch through his trousers to regain some control, he set off. He'd sworn that he'd heard no footsteps, but as he rounded the corner, he collided with someone, stumbling back. Urine jetted out of him and soaked into his undergarments, and he was worried that he was going to lose all control right there. His body had felt relief and demanded more, making his need worsen considerably. After he finally managed to get control, he looked up to see who'd walked into him.

The man standing in front of him had blonde hair that was long enough to be pulled back and tied with a black ribbon. He was wearing a long purple coat that had plenty of eye-catching gold buttons. The man gave off an aura of importance, and it didn't take Arthur long to realize that this was the prince whose palace he was close to wetting himself in.

"Bonjour." The man flashed a smile at him.

"I don't speak French." Arthur said, pretty bluntly.

Francis chuckled. "Prince Arthur, I presume?" Francis bowed his head for a moment out of respect.

No one knew manners better than Arthur, and as much as he'd like to make that apparent, he knew that if he tried to bow to the prince, his bladder wouldn't be able to take the added pressure, so he just nodded once. "Yes, I am." He tried his hardest not to squirm like a child.

"It's wonderful to finally meet you." Francis replied. Though he had a strong accent, his English was fluent.

"You as well." Arthur answered, another wave of desperation washing over him. "And though I hate to cut this meeting short, do you think you could direct me to a restroom?"

"Ah, well, the one near the ballroom has a queue, and it doesn't appear that you can wait that long, so I'll show you to another."

Arthur blushed. He knew he'd been fidgety, but he didn't think he was dancing on the spot like a child.

Francis led him down a hallway, trying a bit of small talk with the Brit, but Arthur's answers were short and blunt so he eventually gave up. Arthur's walking slowed after a minute or so of trying to keep up with Francis, the urine sloshing around inside of him with each step.

Just as the rounded the corner to the hallway that the bathroom was in, Arthur let out a barely audible gasp and stopped in his place, shoving his hand into his crotch. There was an audible hiss as a dark patch appeared on his pants, quickly growing. Arthur kept his head down as his bladder emptied, soaking his clothes and leaving a small puddle around him. When he was finally finished, he didn't move. "I didn't mean to-"

"I know." Francis replied softly. "Come on."

"Where?"

"I'll have my servants draw a bath for you and wash your clothes."

"What…?"

"Would you rather go back to the ball wearing that?"

Arthur didn't answer, so Francis gently took his arm and began leading him upstairs. Arthur walked with him and thought maybe, after this, he'd make a point to learn some French.


End file.
